Tag Archives: 9 rating

Every so often, a cereal appears that you didn’t know you needed in your life. That is, until you taste it and realize that a part of you—a small, quiet part chilling out near the gall bladder—has had its secret cravings fulfilled. Kellogg’s Pink Donut Cereal is one of those cereals.

Like Superman Cereal‘s Nilla Wafer-esque goodness or Chocolate Mini-Wheats‘ pangs of ice cream sandwich goodness, Pink Donut Cereal—one of two entries in Kellogg’s new Donut Shop cereal line (the other is chocolate)—fulfills a very specific and very nostalgic flavor niche. So before you go all hipster-vegan-doughnut-shop on me, turning your maple-bacon-ganache-primed nostrils up and saying, “Pshh, Kellogg’s just reused their Froot Loops shaped and called them doughnuts,” or, “Pink is not a flavor. She’s a wildly successful pop music artist whom I only enjoy ironically,” hear me out:

Kellogg’s Pink Donut Cereal is good, and it tastes like a very specific pink thing you already know and love. Continue reading →

Even though a zucchini bread cereal is as likely as North Korea letting pigs into their no-fly zone, I’m ecstatic that we’ve seen a recent resurgence of banana bread cereals. First we got Canada’s Banana Bread Shreddies, and now fan-favorite Banana Nut Cheerios are back from whatever Davy Jones’ Pantry General Mills condemned them to for the past year or two.

And yes, I know it’s called Banana Nut Cheerios and not Banana Bread, but we all know that’s “banana nut” is a term invented by Big Bread to keep even the carb-conscious in the palm of their crust-caressing hands. But enough conspiracy: let’s slice, peel, and crack open a box! Continue reading →

Okay, well Trix never actually left, but when General Mills removed the cereal’s artificial colors and flavors at the start of last year, it kind of desaturated the cereal in the public eye. And even I’ll admit that, while I appreciated the cereal’s newly authentic fruit flavor at first, its overly citrusy taste profile started to sour on me. Before long, I was out there on the front lines with my “Give Me Red Dye #40 Or Give Me An Even Swifter Death” picket sign.

And apparently General Mills heard the anguished cries of a bunny litter’s worth of distraught inner children, because now “Classic” Trix is back on shelves alongside its tri-colored companion. So whether you’re hankering for a carrot or a slice of carrot cake, Trix has something for you, your kids, and all your silly rabbits to gnaw on.

Let’s take a flavor roadtrip back to the ancient old days of early 2016, shall we? Don’t forget to bring your Sports Almanac! Continue reading →

Cinnamon Toast Crunch is a top candidate for Most-Beloved Cereal Ever. Alongside, Honey Nut Cheerios, Frosted Flakes, and Cap’n Crunch, it’s a cult classic—and for good reason: it’s got cinnamon sugar swirls in every bite. It’s the taste you can see!

Well now it’s the taste you can suck, too, thanks to Burger King. I don’t know how it took so long for the Meat-Puck Maestro to adapt this fan favorite, but I’m glad he did. The cylindrical ivory tower standing before me, adorned with an ethereal whipped cream peak and filled with modest beige freckles, is certainly an unassuming beast, but I’m ready to take down its pasteurized soft-serve Walls of Jericho with my plastic reverse-trumpet.

As I patiently wait for my local Burger King to stock their new Cinnamon Toast Crunch Shake—hurry up, Mr. Beef Royalty: it’s cold waiting out in this tent made of Whopper wrappers—I figured I’d finish my review series of Steak ‘n Shake’s menagerie of breakfast cereal-infused arctic beverages.

When we last left our humble, shake-sucking heroes, they had polished off Cinnamon Crunch and Honey Smacks Shakes at an ungodly hour under the gaze of Sauron-tinted neon lights and nearby angst-tinged teenagers. I recommend you read Part 1, if you haven’t already, because I don’t want to re-tread too much old ground in this post—after all, my stomach still hurts from the whole “mildly lactose intolerant” thing.

The things I do for breakfast journalism.

In short, though, the shakes were good, but BK’sshakes were superior in every way, on account of them actually mixing in syrupy cereal magic syrup instead of just plopping cereal pieces on top. This could’ve put the kibosh on my pasteurized odyssey, but the Steak ‘n Shake waiter said Cocoa Krispies and Frosted Flakes were by far the most popular flavors. Tempted by this forbidden fruit (“Frosted” is a fruit, right?), I set off with my shake-craving sidekick once more to put that waiter’s money where my dairy-sensitive gastrointestinal system is.

I feel like I’m starring in a movie trailer for an unnecessary 2017 reboot of a classic ’80s film. You know, the kind of trailer that inevitably starts with all the wizened and crow-footed stars of the first movie reuniting in their old haunt to topically argue about how things just aren’t as good as they used to be and crack jokes about iPads?

Yeah, that’s how I feel about buying my 2017 box of Count Chocula, because those trailers always open with someone muttering the same line: “Well, here we are again.” Or maybe, “Hello, old friend.” Or even, “Y’all haven’t aged a day.”

Even though a year has passed since I’ve tasted the Count’s sweet cocoa spoils (not counting the expired box I found in my pantry and begrudgingly—though not regretfully—ate on the 4th of July), I feel like this caped chocolate cruncher has never left my side. Like a warm memory or a Tamagotchi that just won’t die, the nostalgic spookiness of Count Chocula—who’s been on shelves for 46 years now, despite being an ageless vampire—is resonant enough to keep me thinking about old elementary school Halloween parties and goofy candy corn cupcakes all year long.

So while I’m sure I won’t find much new to say about Count Chocula’s taste that I haven’t said in previous reviews, I owe this trusty Hershey’s syrup-blooded bloodsucker his annual tribute. Let’s sharpen our canines and start munchin’! Continue reading →

Ask any full-blooded (or at least fake-blood-slathered) Halloween lover, and I’m sure most will agree. While haunted houses, parties, and handing out candy on The Big XXXI Day itself are the holiday’s main events, savoring little spooky moments is the key to feeling merrily macabre from the start of back-to-school season ’til the end of back-to-the-cardboard-box-ghouls-in my basement season.

These bite-sized boos can be anything—or anywhere. Glimpsing a well-loved plastic goblin in a thrift store. Marathoning all the Halloween movies and spending the next week fearing any mention of William Shatner. Camping out in a Spirit Halloween with an industrial carton of Whoppers and flipping through old Goosebumps books until the staff gets scared of you.

Or maybe it’s just eating one (or thirty one) of Kellogg’s “new” Halloween Chocolate Fudge Printed Fun Pop-Tarts. It’s long been a Pop-Tartian tradition to adorn their Chocolate Fudge flavor with full Hallo-regalia (why Chocolate Fudge, I don’t know—maybe because it’s pretty much a king-sized candy bar that’s socially acceptable to eat for breakfast?), but previous years have only seen this ghost-er pastry wearing orange frosting and crunchy sprinkle shapes.

But now Kellogg’s has beautifully spurned their sprinkled tradition in favor of something somehow even better: printed scary shapes on every neon orange-blasted, baked fudge rectangle! Drink that box art in for a minute while I grab the plates, glasses of milk, and altars to worship that top cartoon ghost at.

In this era of snarky infographics and predacious BuzzFeedian BuzzFoodies, it’s hard for anyone to mistake the difference between a macaroon and a French macaron anymore—though I’d argue that it’s much easier to confuse the French macaron with French president Emmanuel Macron.

Yes, everyone, their grandma, and their hyperintelligent pet ape who will one day overthrow humanity or at least star in a memorable sitcom knows that a macaroon is a shredded and toasted mound of sweet, sweet coconut, while a macaron is an ethereal pastel hamburger made of almond flour, powdered sugar, and filling pipetted with the care of a hummingbird whisperer.

And even though I knew this, just like Caesar, I’m still upset that Nature Path’s newest Love Crunch Cereal is Dark Chocolate Macaroon and not Dark Chocolate Macaron. Yes, that cereal would probably just taste like Chocolate Cheerios, but it’s the principle of the thing! I want colorfully crunchy cereal sliders so small White Castle would sell them by the Crave Catamaran!

But fine: I’ll sop up my tears with a bowl of this expensive, though likely delicious Love Crunch Cereal. Despite costing $4 and containing hardly enough cereal per box to feed a hummingbird whisperer’s daily clientele, the first Love Crunch Cereal I tried blew me—nay, propelled me—away with raw sumptuousness.

Now that I’ve got a safety net behind, let’s get with the propelling, Dark Chocolate Macaroon! Continue reading →

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